Undone
by cdb33
Summary: Some scenes from True Blood Season 5 re-imagined from the Viking's POV. Team Eric
1. Survivors

**Ch.1 Survivors**

"I suppose there's strength in numbers," I think to myself as I plan our next move "even if it's a grand total of _two_ and _half _of that is made up of my formerliege, Bill Compton."

Think, Viking... think. They know Nan arrived at the palace, of that I am certain. But without proof of her final death there may be a chance of survival. Yes, we need to clean up and then find a safe place where I can try to reach Nora. I can't call from here it would be too risky and expose her to the threat as well. Did she know of the orders given to Nan? Has she set up a plan from the inside? Probably, knowing her. Godric had great taste as a maker. If anyone can find a way to convince the authority to let us live, she can.

I force myself back into my conversation with Bill. "Maybe you should tell Jessica the truth," I suggest "she'll worry if we don't return." _Or _'_when.'_ I add to myself, ever the pragmatist.

"_Eric,_" Bill's voice rises an octave as he says my name; it's the equivalent of vamp-whining and I wait impatiently for him to finish "Jessica is still young. I may have failed her in the past but I can protect her from this at least. Last time I left her without anyone to look after her, without True Blood no less. At least this time she'll have everything she needs while I am away and the palace staff can keep an eye on her. I owe her this."

"Lies?" I quirk an eyebrow. He scowls and replies, "Safety. Comfort. Protection. I'll be back soon and she'll never have to know that anything was amiss." He widens his eyes and tilts his head. Maybe he's forgotten that I don't fall for his 'puppy dog' look. Never have. Never will.

This is getting tiresome. I try logic: "Except that you probably _won't_ be king when you return." Stony silence. I try shock: "Even _if_ you're not finally _dead_." Nothing. OK, logic it is: "Did you think she might be safer _knowing _what is coming?" Bill simply shoots me a dirty look.

"Whatever, Bill." I continue, knowing that time is running out and that Bill is only going to get_ more_ stubborn if I continue to challenge his parenting skills (or lack thereof). "Call her if you must. I'll start cleaning the _Flannigan_ off the walls while you coddle your spawn. But be quick about it. We don't have much time before they get here." That earned me a withering look, as though somehow I was _trying _to be difficult by pointing out the inevitable. Did he think I _wanted _the Authority to come stake our asses?

I pull on some gloves and get to work, enjoying how vamp-speed lets my mind race almost as fast as my limbs.

* * *

"**Listen Jessica, this is Bill...**"

As his voice takes on that more affected southern cadence, my mind drifts off right away. He should make audio tapes for insomniacs. He sounds like pulling taffy: far too sweet and never ending.

Shitty Maker or no, I have formed a kind of ... _regard_ for the former King of Louisiana during the last two weeks. I respect him, somehow. I'm not sure how. It grew slowly and then, suddenly, it sprung up. Like fungus. Or cancer. Hell, maybe it's just easier to respect him now that he's not lording his cheaply-won throne over my head or shoving his nose (and _blood_) between me and a certain fairy-human hybrid who will remain nameless. But, no, it's not just that he's got less to be smug about, although that doesn't hurt I suppose.

No, like me, Bill's a survivor. Sure, he's a self-loathing, insecure, insincere, ass kissing brown-noser who doesn't get his hands dirty ... but he's _survived_ (so far) and even if I can't respect _how_ he's survived, the fact that he _has_ is better than nothing at this point. Hell, surviving decades with that psychopath Lorena has got to count for _something_, It's no wonder the vamp's got issues.

So I'm allied with my former... my former _what_ exactly? What was Bill to me a month ago? A year ago? Not an enemy. A rival, maybe? An annoyance_. _He was_ definitely _that. He still is to some degree I suppose, but I find myself more and more ... fond of him as time goes on.

Bill Compton. Farmer-turned-father-turned-soldier-turned-unwilling-vampire-turned-sociopathic-murderer-turned-procurer-turned-telepath-seducer-turned-puppet-monarch-turned-wanted-vampire-turned- ... well, who knows? Only time will tell.

Me? I stayed pretty much the same for the past 1000 years, making a single seamless transition from "sexy-as-fuck-badass-Viking" to "sexy-as-fuck-badass-Vampire". Although, I suppose I was recently transformed into "sappy-ass-flannel-wearing-amnesiac-Vampire."

But now I'm 'back' again. But back to _what_ exactly? I'm not sure what "sappy Eric" turned _me_ into but whatever it is, I feel like shit.

So, no, "sappy vamp" is gone. I'm turning_ back _my back on him: I'm turning back to what works. "Sexy-as-fuck-vampire" it is then. I do that well.

"**...I've been called away on business for awhile..."**

But, most importantly of course, we've _both_ survived Sookie fucking Stackhouse. _Nothing_ can top that catastrophe; not even the authority. Honestly, our chances are better against 10,000 years of combined Vampire Fuckery than they are against the single goddamn one-eighth-Fairy that broke _both_ our hearts (and her own) to avoid hurting _one_ of us.

We have a shot. A small one, but I'll take it. After all I do know something of battles and strategy. Bill might have been a soldier (of sorts) but I was a commander. And my men didn't follow me to the end of my human life because of my smoldering eyes, my world-class ass, or my (very) talented cock. No, I _earned _their respect. I led them well, I fought at their side, and I _survived_... just like I will now. Somehow...

Yes... _somehow_... We're _both _survivors and we're definitely more likely to survive together than apart. Although it would be easier if Bill would actually get his fucking hands dirty for once. I mean, seriously, mowing down Marnie with a machine gun is one thing (ripping out that hippy dipshit's heart was _infinitely _more satisfying I can guaran-fucking-tee you) but Bill's spotless hands are going to get bloody soon enough. Nope, you can't pretend not to be a vampire going up against the Authority.

"**Needless to say... "**

God it's easy to tune him out when he gets going. I swear he could get off on the sound of his own voice. Pam and I used to wonder if we were the only ones who see through his southern gentleman routine or of we were just the only ones who were bored to death by it...

"**...my palace is **_**your **_**palace..."**

Oh and there it is: that oh-so-familiar and slightly condescending 'do-gooder simper' he would put on for the cameras whenever he'd cut a ribbon. Does he actually think he's _helping_ Jessica this way? Not that I did much better with Pam, I suppose. She defied me and deliberately tried to exterminate the only woman I'll ever love ...

"**... within reason of course." **

Ah, there's my favourite Bill special: the disingenuous implied chuckle. Honestly Bill's forced levity seems to be more for _his _benefit than his childe's.

No, for all his smooth lines, he's somehow never quite able to get the job done. Notice that the 1000-year old Viking Prince is scrubbing down a tacky-as-fuck rent-a-throne-room as its deposed figurehead manages to pull off yet _another_ SMEM (Shittiest Maker Ever Moment).

Honestly it'll be a miracle if his baby vamp makes it through her second year. Pam won the bet when she got through her first. Something about female solidarity. My guess is dumb luck; Jessica's a ticking time bomb.

And through all this I can feel _her_ moving further and further away from me. Sookie Stackhouse. She's almost at the house now. Our house. Mine. I wish I couldn't feel her. Why did I make that fucking bond? I hate it. I resent it. But I cannot let it go. I _will _not_. _It stretches between us and as much as I yearn for it to snap, I fear what will happen to me if it does. So I fight my own body's instinct _and_ her blood in my veins that is calling me to her. It would be so easy. So _right_. But something keeps me where I am. For one thing, the memory of her feelings as she left the palace: a deep hopeless _confusion._ And all_ I_ felt was _certainty_.

But as she moves further away from me, her confusion lessens. Her strength and determination return slowly; despair transforms into resolution and acceptance. But she is pretending. I feel it. I can only hope that soon she will find her way. She's a survivor too, after all. I would know. I fell in love with that strength.

So why does she find the strength to fight for others but not for me? If only I could excise her from having ever existed at all. But I can't imagine a world without her in it. My heart clenches when I remember her saying the same thing, just not about me.

No, maybe the scarier thought is that I can't imagine _me_ in a world without _her _in it. That's why Pam is acting out I suppose. She knows: she knows me well enough to see this ending badly. Not that Pam's retaliation at Moon Goddess would have helped _that_. Meeting Sookie Stackhouse cannot be undone.

And it is, it appears, ending badly.

I move toward Bill.** "How about wrapping it up? I could use a hand here." ** He's hung up the phone already so what the _fuck_ is he waiting for? Could he havepossibly dragged that _unnecessary _conversation out any longer? What part of "_The Authority is after us_" does he NOT understand?

* * *

I'm jerked out of my thoughts by the morose ex-King as he finally snaps a pair of gloves. About fucking time.

As soon as I slow down I feel _it_again. It. It's not _her_. It's the _lack_ of her. I feel ... sick. It's not pain, at least not _exactly_. I know pain well. No, it is _like_ pain... but it is just so _much _that it turns in on itself. It's in my gut like white fire and I feel nothing but burning. Nothing but an endless 'nothing' that is something... that is _everything_. It is something like... numbness. Like a phantom limb where there was nothing before. Or like a shadow following me: one that I cannot get out from underneath, even though there is nothing there to cast it. A phantom of a phantom. I am haunted by something that never was.

She's gone, Viking. Fucking face it. She's gone, Godric's gone. They _both_ left you. Worse, they both _CHOSE_ to leave you.

So fuck both of them and _live_. That's all you _can _do.

But how? How do I continue in a world with her in it but without her in my world? Especially when there's this fucking bond. Goddamnit. At least when Godric left me I didn't have to feel him afterward.

What the fuck was I thinking in the cubby? I wasn't. "We will be one." Nice sentiment but look where that got me. Fucked. Disturbingly fucking human indeed. But the most disturbing part is not _her_ feelings. The most disturbing part is _my own_. I gave her _everything_ and it wasn't enough: I wasn't enough.

Worse than that, I feel as though I can't trust myself anymore. How could I love such a weak creature? How can I _still _love her? Anything is possible indeed.

She walked out the mother fucking door. I will never forget the sound of her gasping sobs on the other side of it while all the time her blood inside me screamed "ERIC! I choose ERIC."

She will fight for those she loves, but she won't fight for_ herself_. Not really. She ran away from the possibility of our love and her own future rather than fighting for it. Sookie Stackhouse is a coward. Maybe _that_ is why I feel sick. Because I see now that she and Bill might actually deserve each other after all. They might _deserve_ to spend their lives running around pretending to be human; they might _deserve_ to continue denying what they are; they _deserve _to ignore what they _could _be.

Fuck that, I'm _done_.

Her blood roils unhappily inside me at my resolution. Too bad.

And at that exact moment the bond is suddenly flooded.

_PANIC. FEAR._ Bill's head snaps up at the same time as mine. "**Sookie..." **his voice is a mixture of uncertainty and , that plaintiff tone drives me crazy._Wanting _something doesn't mean you _get _it Billy boy.

"**Fuck Sookie.**"

Bill's incredulous look almost made me scoff in his face (A simple bitter scoff would suffice. My days spent smugly mocking Bill are behind me now). I do pity him though. Does he_ really_ think that he can save her? Does he really think she _wants _him too? _Seriously_? Even beforeshe rejected us I knew that was never what she wanted. And now that she _has _rejected us he's running back for more.

"**What? Didn't you hear her? She rejected **_**both**_** of us**."

Pam tells me that Dear Abbey advises that all human women want to be listened to. Bill never quite got that part of playing the 'human' male I guess. Or maybe that makes him even _more _human, since if Dear Abbey was called in then clearly human males fail in this task as a general rule. So if he doesn't listen to Sookie, it's just more proof of his humanity. I'm not sure _that's _what he had in mind when he started mainstreaming. I smirk to myself but my face drops as soon as I realize Sookie _wants _human.

I hear a shot ring out from far across the graveyard. _SHOCK. FEAR. SURPRISE. DESPERATION._

Her emotions course through my veins and grip my body like a vice. _ANGER. HATRED. VENGEANCE._

I hear another shot from a different gun. Now a _new_ one: _SATISFACTION_. Interesting.

Bill shoots out the door. I am frozen in place. _Vengeful satisfaction_ is turning into something else entirely. A feeling that I know all too well.

The familiar agony ripped through my heart: _GRIEF_. _DESPERATION. LONLINESS._

Fuuuuuck! It was like Godric was gone again. I can't do this. Not again. I almost groaned as it moved through me. Fuck!

No. Fuck _Sookie_.

And with that, I shut down the bond.

* * *

**A/N: This is simply my reflection on Eric's plot and dialogue during True Blood Season 5 through the Viking's POV. I won't include every scene nor will the arc of the plot diverge from the show at all. Sadly, I'm just not creative enough to do that. However, I will add a few extra bits to scenes here and there to bolster the reader's understanding of (my understanding of) Eric's motivations. **

**Please keep in mind that I am not a creative writer. This is the first effort to write something here, so don't get your hopes up: my EPOV will have none of the sexy sarcastic 'je ne sais quoi' channeled by amazing authors like CaliforniaKat, Wylis, Ficlit78 or DeedeeINFJ. **

**Besides Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball, I must give a shout out - across the pond - to my own personal (Over) Analysis Guru CaliforniaKat. So much of my own (over) thinking through True Blood has been done with her and through her stories, so this wouldn't have happened without her. Kat, you're the best. **

**I don't own anything.**


	2. Friends

[I put my A/N at end since they end up being really long. I own nothing.]

* * *

**Ch.2: FRIENDS**

I could smell her before I saw her. I draw a deep breath. Even through the stench of gasoline fumes, burnt flesh and melted plastic I can't mistake it: green fields... morning dew ... sweet hay. I am transported back to pre-industrial England. Jolly good.

"**No Hayes: **_**you**_**. **_**You**_** die." **

My Sister. My lover. My comrade. And now my _savior_. As I have been hers. Many, _many_ times, in fact. Of course I never fail to remind her of this when she gets too cocky, which is often. This time though, she's saved me from more than the true death. And I thank the gods when her silhouetted curves appear before me as 'Hayes' disintegrates before my eyes.

"**Nora**."

Her name sounds a prayer delivered after the divine act. Apparently it's just as fucking effective. I can't get to her fast enough. All I feel is relief. Like I can finally _breathe_ again. But my relief has less to do with the fact that I'm not finally dead and more to do with my current Fairy-induced existential crisis. God, I've missed my sister, and not just the sex.

In fact, it's not the sex at all. Nora may _fuck_ me like Yvetta but she_ gets_ me like Pam and she _accepts_ me like Godric. Of course, she _challenges _me like that fucking Fairy too, only without the pattern of renunciation and retreat.

There's never shame or doubt between us: just something like love... or as close as two vampires can get to it anyways. Hell, maybe what we have is better. Devotion. Trust. For the first time since meeting Sookie fucking Stackhouse _feelings_ feel _safe._

Our lips crash together; our faces twisting and turning as our mouths map out the familiar terrain between us. I move more slowly than I usually do, reveling in the familiarity and, admittedly, hamming it up a little too. Godric used to fondly tell us we were a little on the melodramatic side and he was right. We were melodramatic ... and exhilarating ... and honest. Always honest. There's no bullshit with us. No surprises except the next witticism or prank. Exhilarating? Yes. Exhausting? Inevitably. But we had Godric as our rock to ground us while we fought and fucked our way through her first decade as vampire. It was a good decade.

I hear flames and aftershocks of the explosion behind me but I can't pull away. I need this. Something. Someone.

And I don't do _this_ usually. Kiss, that is. No, _usually _my conquests are seduced before I speak a word ... if I even have to speak. And I don't mean I glamour them either. They don't come to me for romance, after all. Nor I to them. In the end, I'd rather fuck a stranger's pussy with my mouth than put my tongue in theirs. Maybe I should ask Dear Abbey about _that _one. Or Dr. Phil.

No, until the night that I kissed Sookie in my office, it had been decades since I kissed anyone and I hadn't missed it a bit. I probably wouldn't miss it after Nora was gone either. No, all I would miss is a _certain _kiss. From a _certain _mouth.

That kiss between Sookie and I in the office had been different than this one. That night I was saying hello and goodbye all at once. I was begging, pleading and beseeching. No, I couldn't have moved slowly that night if I tried. I had wanted her, _all _of her. That kiss was desperate, but it was desperate _for her_, whereas this kiss with Nora is simply _desperate_. Desperate but also _grateful_.

I heard Bill clear his throat _unnecessarily_ behind us and his bemused judgment was already implied. So predictable.

"_**Friend**_** of yours?" **

It's a rare moment when Bill Compton's self-satisfied, narrow-minded morality doesn't irritate the fuck out of me but now is one of those moments. Let him judge. After all, my _friend _just saved our sorry asses.

No, Mr. Congeniality may react without a thought to the repressive bourgeios Protestant moral compass he continues to use, but I was never burdened with that particular set of values. Thank fuck for small favours.

Case in point: Bill judging me in _this_ moment is the very _definition_ of hypocritical considering the nightly 'fuck-suck-n-glamour' routine he had going on in his palace while Sookie in Faery. I guess we both tried to fuck her out of our systems at one point or another: me with Yvetta and him with Lorena. And then him with his staff. Now if _that's_ not a breach of ethics I don't know _what _is. Not to mention the fact that he was fucking the coven _informant. _God, he's so hopeless it's almost endearing. He's like an untrained puppy.

For my part, fucking someone other than Sookie was never some passive aggressive excuse to justify leaving her. I never hid it from her and I never flaunted it in her face either. Both of which Bill managed to do. Unwittingly perhaps but, _again_, totally unnecessarily.

No, I would never pull a move like Bill pulled at Russell's palace with his maker. If that wasn't a sign that repressing one's impulses is dangerous, I don't know what is. And I sure as fuck wasn't having sex with my staff only days after Sookie returned either!

Now? Bill might be celibate, sure. What's it been? A few days maybe? Does he want a fucking _medal?_

Is he a decent guy? Sure. Is he well intentioned? Without a doubt. Is he a world-class hypocrite? Fuck, yeah.

And let's not overlook another key adjective: _forgetful_. Not that I blame him for _wanting _to forget that he screwed his fifth cousin or whatever that stuck-up-and-bland-as-paste lawyer turned out to be to him. Hell, then he glamoured _that_ one _too_. Like I said: he never _quite _does the job right. There's always a loose end. I had to re-glamour her to make undo the trauma he'd drilled in after she started causing problems for the supe community. Un-fucking-necessary.

And then there's the fact that he missed the point entirely. Bill wanted to forget about his little brush with 'incest' because of his culturally-imposed moral code rather than an actual ethical position.

Needless to say, if it had been _me, _I would have been equally ashamed - just not for the same reasons. No, I would have felt shame for having flaunted those moronic women under Sookie's nose in the first place. And a day after she returned, no less.

So, no.

No, I'm not irritated.

I'm too fucking _relieved _to bother being irritated by Bill Compton's smug rhetorical query. Perhaps it's because the answer to his question is so fucking simple:

'YES.'

'YES she is a friend of mine.'

YES, she is a _true_ friend; perhaps she is the only one I have left.

I glance at Bill, "**My sister, actually**" as turn back to her again. I can barely tear my eyes from Nora's face. We haven't seen each other for over a century, after all. In 100 years we have spoken only once. Briefly. I had to tell her of Godric after Dallas. It was a risk to do so, but a necessary one.

God, seeing her here I realize how much I've missed her... how much I need her now. And not just to deal with my impending final death at the hands of the authority. No, I _need_ a 'sure thing' and _not_ in the way I usually mean it.

I need someone who is just... sure. _Sure_ of their own mind. _Sure_ of their feelings for me. Someone confident. Someone strong. I thought that was the Fairy, but it wasn't. And no, Nora may not be 'mine' forever as I wanted Sookie to be, but that's not what we are to each other. We'll have each other's backs forever and that is all that I want right now.

That may be all I'll ever want.

I readjust the block I have on the bond, making sure I can't feel a thing that could distract me from this moment. I want to enjoy what I have in front of me.

Hope.

* * *

**[A/N**** So, a little history: his story came about when I shamelessly hinted to my FF soul mate CaliforniaKat that she should "fix it" after watching the season premiere of Season 5. Realizing the error of my ways I decided to take a note from SMV Sookie, and so I pulled on my big girl panties and tried to do some 'fixing' of my own. Low and behold, CaliforniaKat took pity on me and now after reading her new chapter of "Inner" I've realized that "Undone" isn't fixing anything really. CaliforniaKat really brings the Eric/Bill dynamic to life beautifully and is reflects much more comprehensively and favourably on S/E relationship too. So far "Undone" is more anti-Bill and anti-Sookie than I prefer when reading. (I've never gotten to spout off at Bill in 'public' and apparently I had a few things to say 'to' Sookie too when given the chance.) I just hope that I've kept things complicated enough to do the characters justice. And, of course, this is just the first episode. So much can happen.**

**Speaking of so much happening ... I have one more (short) chapter drafted for episode one. I am currently away travelling for work and my internet connection sucks so I can't rewatch episode one. It's hard even to post. All to say that I'm sorry if the dialogue taken from the show is slightly off. More importantly I won't be able to watch the new episodes as they come out until I'm back in July. GASP! I know. SHOCKING. So unfair. Anyways, I plan to continue this project when I'm back to my regular wifi connection in July, as long as I still have opinions. And that's not likely to change soon.]**


	3. Eyes

**Chapter 3: EYES**

The sun is setting and the metaphor is not lost on me. No matter how clichéd it may be, it fits. All I need is Elton to serenade my in my last hours... I smile at the bathos. I need to smile about _something_.

Ridged metal digs into my back and I adjust my weight. I've been 'up' for hours already: prone and unmoving; remaining vigilant for signs that our location was compromised during the day. The smell of ammunition, the beep of surveillance equipment; the commiserating whispers of a distant 'stormtrooper huddle'. I am on alert but I find nothing. Just the sound of waves, the gulls and a few distant dockhands.

It is a rather banal soundtrack to accompany Eric Northman's last hours.

Of course if I _had _discovered that we were surrounded I'm not sure what good it would have done us. No, my forced focus outward was an act of self preservation of _another_ kind. Focusing on the present kept me from thinking about the future, to say nothing of the past. No, I did not want to contemplate the night ahead. After tonight, 'Eric Northman' will be no more.

My senses sweep the area again like a lighthouse: still nothing.

One thousand mother fucking years and after all of it, it ends _tonight_. Tonight I say goodbye to everything. To everyone. To myself. To _her_. Sookie.

I feel sick.

Yes, my twilight vigil served several purposes. Prime among them was distraction from the loss that lay before me. But could it be any worse than what I already lost? That seems impossible. And yet, I remind myself, _anything is possible._ After all, after tonight there is no turning back.

* * *

My mind drifts for only a second, but images are harder to control than thoughts and in that brief instant a memory crystallizes before me: as if formed from mere vapors; as if, if I tried to push it away, it would re-form itself anew; as though it was meant to be there. It sought me out and refused be ignored and so I am not surprised that, although it is unbidden, I ache to set the scene in stone so I can call on it forever.

This image may have come from nothing but it is no shadow or phantom. It is a ray of sunlight that enters a dusty room: it makes things visible that were unseen before, but were present all the same.

And so that is how I come to see_ her_ in my last hours. Sookie. _My _Sookie. My fairy. A miracle and a fucking curse.

The memory sharpens focus. She is standing at the edge of the pond in the sunlight. I can feel the water moving through my hands, I smell the mud and hear the leaves rustle in hot morning air. I revel in the warmth of the sunlight on my back. Yes, I _feel _all these things but all I _see _are her eyes. At first they are slightly narrowed, with eyebrows raised: concern pretends at exasperation but reflects a _care_ that is not yet acknowledged. And then I catch a flash of humor as she takes in my antics. Oh yes, that too. Especially that.

Her pony tail swings behind her in the sunlight. I want to tug it. Why won't she _play_? Why is she so gripped with _fear_? I turn my face up to meet the sky. It feels so fucking good. I am just grateful that she is there to share it with me, in whatever way she chooses to. I am grateful for it all.

But then, in an instant, I feel something change and it is _me_. Burning. And in _that_ instant – that sickening moment when I am forced to recognize myself - the look in her eyes transforms. Her eyes reach out to me as her arms do the same and she guides me to shore: to safety.

Only Sookie could offer me something so simple and so _perfect _in one look: compassion. And as she wrapped the blanket around my shoulders I stole one last look into the dark eyes lit by the sunlight. From the darkness of the shipping container I was struck what I _didn't _see there: pity. Not a single _fucking_ ounce of pity. It was unspeakable. Incomprehensible.

Yes, I remember that look. She was my equal as I was hers. We will always be equals, even though we are not one another's _anything_ any longer. Hell, even if we are not _One, _I am still hers. Always.

Separated from her now in this dark container, frozen in place at the beginning of my end, I crave any look from her at all. I crave her sweet smell, her little hands, the bounce in her step. The way she smiles like she knows all my secrets. Fuck.

Fuck it! Let the memories do their worst. I'm no fucking _coward_! A thousand years of survival and it was a pair of ebony eyes that did me in. Fucking Fairy and her fucking eyes. They were a hundred times more dangerous than the necromancers spell and their thrall is impossible to break. Yes, her eyes were always my undoing. I let myself come undone.

The first night she came to Fangtasia her eyes were bright, appraising, _almost _suspicious but, more than that, deliciously _curious. _As were my own.

The night she lay on her stomach incapacitated by the Maenad's poison they were proud: they turned up and_ dared_ me to pity her: more than that – and without intent - they dared me to _care_. It was a terrifying proposition. I had to cross my arms to hold myself back.

The night that she looked down at me in the basement of the Fellowship church as I knelt before Godric they registered her surprise, her confusion and then her recognition of what her savior was to me. Recognition of why she had been put in danger and also recognition that I had _needed _her: that I _valued _her and that I _trusted _her with what mattered most to me.

The night after she removed the bullet from my chest we sat in that intolerable meeting with Nan _fucking _Flannigan and my Fairy stole a glance at me. Her eyes were guarded, apprehensive, but _intrigued. _She was confused. Through the small amount of my blood in her body, I knew that she was drawn to me but she didn't know _why. _Luckily, I did: I knew that her desire to be near me was _not_ my blood's doing. It was her _own_. Of course, she kept her body rigid and controlled, but her _eyes _betrayed where she was meant to be.

It was in that moment that my soul whispered to my heart: "Mine." My heart was stayed silent. Assent was implied.

Weeks later, she was thrown at my feet in Russell's entrance hall and I was forced to face what this human meant to me when she saw me. Her eyes flickered with _hope. _It took everything I had to force myself to crush it. Was it necessary? Yes, and _not _to serve my own vengeance either. But it came at a high price.

When I first tasted her blood, it was nothing like how I had imagined it would be. No, looking down at her on that table inside Fangtasia nearly broke me. She couldn't fight me as she always did and as I loved to watch her do. Powerless, her eyes were full of frustration, fear and worse: _betrayal_. When I saw it there I hesitated. Perhaps for the first time in my undead life, I fucking hesitated. And what a time to hesitate! Everything hung in the balance, including her life. _Especially _hers. I tried to tell her the truth with my own eyes: "I would never betray you, I _cannot_." But by trying to protect her I caused her more pain. The mad king tore into her wrist before I could ease the pain. I could taste her terror when I finally made my way to her neck and it turned my stomach. I told myself I stroked her hair to calm _her_ as I drank, but I know now that was trying to calm _myself _more.

When she fed me a second time that day I could not see her eyes. My own were fused shut by the burnt skin of my eyelids and she held my back to her in any case. But it was then that I grasped onto a thought like a lifeline: if she had felt _betrayed _by me, there was _something_ to _be _betrayed. And I could earn it back.

I clung to that fact when she cast me off her porch after I made Bill tell her everything as I clung to it when she returned from Faery and I told her I had never abandoned hope. Her eyes shot over to me when I said it and I saw her distrust, incredulity and then, underneath it, acknowledgement. Her eyes showed me her acceptance of my loyalty, although it was not yet reciprocated.

It was on that same porch that she called me back to her side after I told her I would never snuff out her light. I stood at the bottom of the steps I waited for her _look_ to tell me her will, and I knew that I was utterly _subject _to it. To her. _She _was my liege. And when I finally met her eyes I saw all I needed: I saw _her_ hope. In _me. _For _us_.

But of all of the looks I have received from Sookie Stackhouse, there is one that matters most; the moment when her eyes finally showed me what I had waited for for two long years. As we formed our bond she cradled the palm of my hand to her mouth and took me in. Accepting me. Wanting me. She was claiming me as hers. Greedily. I loved it. Yes, she was giving and receiving that night, as was I. It was how it should be. It was _right. _And_ s_he gave me more than her blood. Peering over my long broad fingers, she looked me straight in the eye. Fearlessly. Confidently. I will never forget what I saw: openness, certainty, and what I had wanted all along: her _trust_. She was as _sure_ of us as I was.

_Those_ are the eyes I will take with me. Wherever I find myself at dawn tonight, that look of _trust _will be there.

But I will not return its gaze. I will lock it away. I will keep it hidden, even from myself. The fact that I have to do so makes my stomach turn. I will keep it safe from everything else that has happened since that night. It will remain untarnished by her denial, her cowardice and her fear. No, she may have taken many things away from me when she walked out of Bill's palace last night - hope, trust, faith, love - but she couldn't take that moment from me. I wouldn't let her.

The vapors that formed my reverie shimmer and disperse.

* * *

"Fuck Sookie." I feel stronger when I say it. Anger is easy. It is like a battering ram holding up a caving rampart. And the door keeps. For now.

Perhaps this is for the best. If I cannot be with my Fairy, with _that _Sookie, I would rather shed this life like a skin and leave it all behind with just one perfect memory. So I lock that memory up in a box. Maybe one day, in a thousand years, I will allow myself to open it. Until then I let everything else wash away. I am left with emptiness: phantoms and shadows. And the bond. The tight grip with which I clamp down on it has loosened slightly and I readjust it, giving it a violent twist for good measure. As though I could hurt her as much as she hurt me; as though ever would.

No. I'm DONE, I remind myself. "Fuck Sookie." But it doesn't give me strength that time. It sounds… false. Desperate. Plaintiff. I feel my anger slipping into... pain. Goddamn it! NO! Sookie fucking Stackhouse is _not _the only thing I will leave behind tonight.

I force myself back to the present and to the vampire laying next to me. As I look at her my emotions even out. I find my control. I know myself again.

It was mere seconds since my last sweep for stormtroopers but the exhaustion of letting the Fairy in again – even a little - only proves that I cannot let it happen again. Not if I am to survive. And I will. No, there is nothing else to do but accept her decision in whatever way I can. I must.

I focus on Nora's face. As much as she aggravates me, annoys me, pushes me and provokes me, she grounds me too. I need that. I need her. Tonight I will leave everything I have ever been behind. Not least - though perhaps not most - of all the one creature that has known me the longest ,ever since Godric has been 'gone' that is. Tonight my last link to my Maker will be gone too, in the moment I leave _her._

Nora.

* * *

**So, as the tinny twang of the "Season 5 Banjo duel/duet 2012" continues on, you can all thank Kat for reminding me that anger is not Eric's only emotion even if it is the easiest one for him to feel right now. That said, this was merely a slight reprieve and a sowing of seeds for later when (I hope) TB gives me a way to really redeem Sookie who (sorry Kat) is sorta' on my shit list right now. Angry Eric is back next chapter. Well, maybe the pain is starting to seeping in through the cracks now… we'll see. **

**I own nothing belonging to Ms. Harris or Mr. Ball. And, surprise surprise, I must acknowledge California Kat... AGAIN. Yes, I sound like a broken record but what with all the TB analysis in this chapter it is inescapable that Kat come into the equation. **

**Here is my caveat: while this chapter reflects my own obsessive overthinking of Alan Ball's Eric and his ultimate Eric-Sookie endgame, as I wrote the chapter I knew that I couldn't even begin to trace all the ways that my initial thoughts on the matter were eventually shaped by the discussions I had with California Kat and her own analysis of True Blood in "Back and Forth" and "Come Back to Me." So, Kat, if you're out there ;) feel free to PM me your detailed footnotes for this chapter so that readers can trace any ideas/images/etc that were inadvertently inspired by you. Long live the bond!**

**Thanks for all reviews which are fun since part of why I posted was to have an excuse to talk TB. Special thanks to "MyVikingBoyfriend" for sharing her thoughts. We are of the same mind and it gives me hope. **


	4. Champions

**Chapter 4: Champions**

* * *

_Nora_.

She is as close as I can get to my beginning.

I turn my head to look at her familiar profile, trying to memorize every changeless feature on her face. Soon she will rise. Sookie may have denied me a final look into her eyes, but not Nora. Nora is here.

"_No-ra_." I whisper sing-songing her name like I used to when we were 'young' just to piss her off. I want her to wake. I want to have every last minute I can with her before I am gone.

I trace her profile from forehead to chin with the rough pad of my thumb. She stirs. I try again: "_Nooooo-raaaaa_." I prick the digit with my fang and press a dot of my blood to the tip of her nose, knowing she would be aware of what I was doing but unable to move. It is a strange action, born on impulse alone. It is at once a gift, a branding and a teasing provocation. I have barely finished saying her name before my thumb is in her mouth and I feel my blood moving into her. She runs her tongue up the side of it as if she was giving me head. I feel… nothing. I feel no pleasure but there is nothing here to hurt me either. This is safe. This is the opposite of Sookie taking my blood when we formed our bond.

Before I knew it she was straddling me and had my hands pinned above my head. I could easily overpower her of course... but where would be the fun in that? We have always had a comfortable routine. Tease, bicker, fuck. Bicker, tease fuck. It always ends well. Or at least it used to.

"You want to fuck me, _min bror_." She stated it like she knew me. Like I was the same. I wasn't. "No." I replied. I made like I was teasing but I knew I wasn't. The idea of being with anyone but Sookie made me ill. She just chuckled, unaware of the darkness under the surface of my reply.

I couldn't be celibate forever. Could I? No... yes... maybe. A farewell fuck with Nora wouldn't heal me but it was better than the alternative. Wasn't it? Yes, this is _much _better, I think to myself as I grind my hips upwards. Or, at the very least it is familiar. She moves her face towards mine at a deliberately slow pace and I smirk up at her, knowing how much she wants me even as she plays her little games. She always needs to feel like she's in control. And I let her. Mostly.

God, when was the last time I'd had a good fuck? Yvetta? No, that was just to numb the pain of Godric's death and the ... uncomfortable... feeling of the blood tie with Sookie. No, with Yvetta I wasn't really _there, _I was trying to escape_. _

And then after Sookie went missing I just...didn't. _Fuck_, that is. Not that it was a conscious decision. I just... wouldn't. Oh sweet Jesus, if Nora ever found out I was celibate for over a fucking _year,_ she will laugh her fucking ass off. I'd _never_ live it down and I'm immortal, so that's not an option!

It wasn't really a laughing matter though. I nearly drove Pam fucking crazy. No wonder she hates Sookie now. It's a good thing Pam is not involved in this. She and Nora would be a force to be reckoned with. Of course, part of me yearns for that. Family. To introduce my sister and daughter. To laugh with them. But that would never be. Perhaps it is for the best: even individually Pam and Nora's teasing wears on me on the best of days. And they would have far too much fun at my expense. Besides, it could never by family without Sookie among us. The thought is like a punch in the gut and I feel bloody tears spring up behind my eyes. I freeze.

Nora might have come close in her assessment: perhaps I _need_ to fuck her, even if I don't exactly _want _to.

No, I can't remember the last time I fucked purely for... _pleasure_. Fang bangers never really counted on that score. They're more for the alleviation of boredom and a convenient physical release. And, no: I sure as _hell _didn't count all the times that "sappy-Vamp" did the deed with the Fairy. That wasn't me there after all. At least not entirely. And it wasn't_ fucking_ either.

It was so goddamn _unfair_. I had waited over two years to have her. I had dreamed it, wished for it, desperately imagining the moment when she would give herself to me, and waiting to give all of _myself _to _her. _My memories, my fears, my thoughts, my _feelings: _I stored them up for her. Waiting. Knowing that the first time I pushed into her she would see that _I am hers. _But no. Believe-you-fucking-me, things would have been much, much different if it weren't for the curse. She would have had all of me our first time. Instead it was tainted, just like the first time I took her blood.

And, of course, I could never _just '_fuck' her. It would always be something... more with Sookie. But the modern notion of 'making love' could only ever be _part _of it too: passionate and primal is how I would have 'made love' to my Fairy if she had given _us_ a chance. I growled at the thought.

I heard the door of the shipping locker open and close as Bill made a hasty escape. Good. Unconsciously my hands flex and stretch above my head, preparing to take back the upper hand.

"Keep your hands there, _bror,"_ Nora brought me back to the present "or _else_."

My eyebrows raised but I complied, biding my time. Echoing my earlier gesture, she traced her finger down my forehead, along the profile of my face, over my Adam's apple, chest and then with all five fingertips she followed the lines of my muscles that led to what she _really _wanted. She lowered the blood-stiffened and charred zipper of my jeans.

Nora continued to hold her face just above mine, lips poised a millimeter from my own. No breaths passed between us. They are unnecessary and we're nothing if not efficient in our foreplay. Her eyes are so familiar that I could swim into them and imagine my way to Godric. Yes, I know those eyes. Dark. Warm. Safe. And for that moment, everything went perfectly still and I could almost pretend that time had stopped. That the Authority would never come. That I could stay here forever and I would never be _gone_. Neither here nor there… nowhere. It was a welcome reprieve.

I raise my head and lick my blood from her nose slowly. Her hand finally wraps around my cock and her fingertips only just touch as her hand closes around me. I am ready. A look of fondness crosses her face, turning to lust and then _mischief _as she grabs my cock and tugs it. Hard. Bitch.

In a split second I have her on her back and wearing only a scrap of a black bra and her gloves; now she's pinned the floor with _her _hands above _her _head.

"Or. Else. What?" I taunt. The tone and cadence is familiar. I am on solid ground again.

She tries to look annoyed but gives up quickly, choosing to redirect her energy elsewhere as she rolls her hips toward me, hooking her legs around my hips, bringing herself up in invitation. She's wet and she knows it. She knows I'll feel it. I reach down to tease her, rubbing her clit. Hard. Two can play at that game.

"Try me."

Always teasing. Always taunting. It might be tiring in some ways. But at least I _always_ know where I stand. I _always _know what she wants. Sure, I may not _want _it but I think I might _need _it. It's hard keeping the fucking bond shut. Exhausting. I need an escape. I need to lose myself. And with Nora I can lose myself and find myself in the same instant.

Before she could continue her game I changed the rules. With a loud hollow 'clang' I pin her against the wall and I thrust into her. "Mmmm." I hear myself groan. I sound smug, cocky. But I feel… empty, hollow. I start to thrust and she meets me at every turn but there is no pleasure here as there used to be between us. I've lost my ... what do the kids called it these days? _Mojo. _

Not it's not pleasure but it is… something. It is a greeting to a long lost 'sister' but also to myself – my _old self _that is. At the same time I know that this is even more than a greeting. It is also farewell. I close my eyes at the thought. I know I will not climax tonight, but I continue, eager to at least bring her some release. Struggling to stay with her, I am losing focus. Becoming morose. I think of everything I have lost. Godric. Pam. Sookie.

"**I miss you too, my brother**."

I didn't realize I'd said a word until she replied.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Wolf Pup**

* * *

"**It's untraceable, _NO-RA_**_._"

My taunting singsong voice is back. It's never gone for long when we're together. Now I remember just how much we needed Godric to baby-vamp-sit during Nora's first decade. It turns out we still do, not that I ever doubted it.

I try to will my hard-on … _off_. Is it a testament to my prowess that in the midst of all this shit I'm still ready to go? Or is it just evidence of how profoundly unsatisfying fucking Nora was. It actually reminds me of fucking Yvetta, except we actually care about each other. I can't help but remember mocking Bill's stamina when Sookie caught me with the consenting, nay _encouraging_, Estonian I had chained in my basement. In that moment Sookie's _refusal _to look at me meant as much as any of her previous "stares downs" or furtive glances. If Sookie had dared to look at what she wanted, she might have seen that my fangs weren't even down, even though my cock was ... _up._ Yvetta had been a distraction, pure and simple, she just wasn't a particularly effective one. Neither was Nora, as it turns out.

As Bill clears his throat, I'm brought back to the former object of my derision and I am pleasantly surprised as he peers over at me more bemused than appalled at the fuckfest-turned-squabble that he just was privy to. In fact, from the look in his eye, I think he might actually 'get it': the need for distraction after the loss of the fairy, I mean. But then I suppose that also means he 'gets' the inevitable failure of attempting to distract oneself. Hell, even before the night began, I already knew that nothing could fill in for the loss of sunshine, not even the brightest night.

Although Bill may have painful insight into my actions with regards to _Sookie, _he can't 'get' the connection I have with Nora and that is through no fault of his own. No, Bill never had _anyone_ he could count on as a vampire. Maybe that is why he clung so adamantly to his humanity. Well, at least by default he does have family now. For my part, I never had a grown brother as either human or vampire so it could be … nice. Between Pam, Nora and Sookie, I find myself looking forward to a little male bonding and I wonder if we will be able to stay together after we take on our new existences. To my surprise and am _not_ surprised that I hope that we will.

Probably I'm not the only one surprised by the newfound respect between us. I sense a mutual surprise that accompanies the growing reciprocal 'regard'. I remember the night that Bill had arranged to stake me, and the look in his eyes as but he let me free after I told him Sookie deserved to be happy. Perhaps it was in that moment that Bill began to recognize that I did not reject my humanity but that I simply hid it well. It turns out that the same could be said for him. I am beginning to see that he has managed to integrate the vampire he is into his 'mainstreaming' self more fully than I first believed. Or maybe this latest 'situation' was the kick in the pants that he needed to acknowledge what he is. Either way, I like it. More importantly, I think I like _him_.

Bill might be bemused at the fuckfest, but I am not. I am back to pretending, and more for my own stability than anyone else's benefit. And I do what I must to survive and that means play on expectations: so now I play at bemused. It's not hard after all, Nora does amuse me. I am fond of her. And she does drive me fucking crazy. "**We may fight like brother and sister, but we fuck like champions**."

Is that pity I see in his eyes? I can't even fool Bill Compton? I tried to make it sound like a complete statement of fact, like it was the end of the matter but _apparently_ we _both_ know better. I finish the sentence to myself '…_but still, all I want is Sookie. Always.' _If the last 15 minutes told me anything it was that it would _always_ be Sookie.

No, if fucking Nora was as difficult as that was, then I couldn't imagine _anyone _being fuckable after the fairy. Was it even a fuck if you don't cum? Maybe. But probably not if you don't _care _if you come. Oh my fucking gods, so much for turning back to the "sexy as fuck badass Vamp". Well, I could still be _that._ I'll always be _that_ in part. But I won't be reaping the carnal benefits, apparently. Oh well, after 1000 years, I suppose it was time for a change. Lord knows it was getting a bit predictable anyways. Until Sookie, of course.

But as unsatisfying as the… whatever it was… was with Nora, it still helped. I now know that I won't be turning back to what I was before Sookie. And it may have been physically and emotional unsatisfying, but it was strangely reassuring, even in its inadequacy. It was familiar. It was like returning home. Actually, it was more like a nostalgic visit to a former home; a visit born out of a chance encounter, and you feel mild curiosity whether it is the same as you remember it. So you return, knowing that it will be a short visit, just planning to take a 'look' but of habit, you enter. And no matter what it _looks _like, it always _feels_ different. It feels smaller somehow, and it is hard to believe it ever fit you. Yes, even vampires, whose physical appearance does not change, feel this way upon a return. I felt it when I returned to my homeland for the first time with Godric as vampire and I was as different to my human self then as I am now to the vampire I was when I last saw Nora. Then again, isn't it always the person returning that has changed the most and not the place that they return to?

I'm brought out of my reverie by the phone, and back to the reality of this night and I think to myself that things aren't _that _bad. Not really. In fact, they could be much, much worse. Sookie is alive and living her life for herself, finally. Even if that means she is not with me, at least she is safe. No, more importanly, at least she is _free. _Free from Bill's lies, free from the control of Sophie Ann or Russell or the Authority. And I know Pamela will be fine on her own. Even though she bit of a daddy's girl underneath it all, she's strong and independent. It's why I made her. Maybe it was time for her to grow up and face her own life without me in it. I know she will flourish and be a wonderful maker one day and maybe she will make that choice sooner now, once she realizes I am gone and she is alone. As soon as I can I will find a way to let her know I am gone.

So, yes, perhaps this is all for the best. The pragmatist in me finds himself looking forward to a fresh start. He has grown tired of the romantic, but I'm afraid he's in for a rude awakening. I may still be a 'sexy-as-fuck-badass-Vamp' but I am one who has loved. And that changed _everything. _But more to the point, this new pragmatic-romantic would have been in constant torture living so close to the fairy. It would be impossible. No, not impossible. It would have been painfully possible. It would have been the purest form of torture I could imagine.

I bolster my spirits. _This is right. This is best._ I nearly have myself convinced.

Noticing who is calling, a slow smirk takes over my features. Pam loaded a picture of a baby wolf from the 'cutest baby animals' calendar she found hung up in Ginger's locker beside those atrocious velcro 'simpleton shoes' she wears to and from the bar. Of course Pam immediately put it on my phone as Alcide's profile picture. God, I will miss my child.

I flick open the _untraceable _cell and it's not such a stretch to sound lighthearted, "**Alcide my faithful friend, how are ya**?"

"Shut the fuck up Northman and listen hard because after this phone call you'll never hear from me again and you won't be able to reach me even if you fucking _want _to..."

Something in his voice –something other than the attitude that would have gotten him killed if he had been in the same room as me - put me instantly on edge. I feel my body still and my smirk vanished like smoke. What was I just thinking to myself? Oh right… '_Maybe this is for the best… at least she is safe.' _Please, oh fuck, _please_ don't let it be Sookie… I warily let the bond open for a split second then slam it back up as soon as I know. She is alive.

I don't have enough time to feel relief before the wolf pup launches into a monologue that would have eradicated any sense of relief I might have momentarily allowed myself. He clearly didn't need a response and I certainly wasn't in the position to give him one with both Nora and Bill eavesdropping, so after stepping away from prying vamp ears I obeyed the wolf (for once) and listened. I just prayed he would tell me everything I needed to know without me having to talk and make the others suspicious.

"You fucked up Vampire and you can bet your scrawny, pasty, UNDEAD ass that I'm not calling out of concern for _you_ when I tell you that Russell _fucking _Edgington broke out of the cement tomb that _you _guaranteed he'd never escape from in a hundred FUCKING years and now it's only a matter of time before Sookie's got 3 millenia worth of deranged, vengeful "raisin-vamp" hunting her down!"

Without thinking I had already opened and shut the bond again. She lives. It became a mantra as I listened. It was all that kept me from shooting into the sky.

"She's refusing to come stay with me and it's only a matter of time before that crazy motherfucker drains enough humans to have the strength to enact whatever twisted torture scheme he's concocted during the past year. And don't you _DARE_ FUCKING forget that _you _dragged Sookie into Russell's radar in the first place, and that SHE saved your ass TWICE that day, OR that _you_ have left her to fend for herself in _your_ fucking house where she can't even revoke that psycho's invitation."

He barely took a breath but luckily for both of us his voice remained lowered, coming out as an even hiss that I could tell wouldn't reach my companions.

"So if you actually did care an IOTA for Sookie when your little took a roadtrip to amnesiaville last week, then you'd better hury the fuck over to Bon Temps and find Russell before he heals... and finds _her_. I mean, that's the question right? Did the spell make you forget what a fucking asshole you really are, or did it help you forget that you just act like an asshole all the time? I don't even FUCKING care as long as Sookie lives. And either way, seeing as I'm having to call YOU to tell you, you either didn't know – which would be a first – or you've decided to save your own pathetic ass anyways, as always. So don't even FUCKING speak to me Vampire, because your actions will speak for you, and I don't want you fucking ordering me to do _jack fucking SHIT_ for you. NOTHING. Look how that turned out last time, asshole. No, I'M going to do everything in my power to keep Sookie out of this since mess I don't have a fucking chance trying to go against Russell and YOU can either run away vamp-speed or come clean up YOUR mess. But leave me and Sookie the FUCK out of it."

**Click. **

_Fuck. _I try to imagine a worse turn of events and find myself hard pressed. This is worse than when the Magister had Pam and that was a serious pickle. No, there is no question _if_ I will return, only _when_. I cannot return as myself without serious repercussions for Sookie, nor without compromising my chances at success. So there is no other option except to wait. It is a risk. No, not to Nora although clearly I am willing to risk her life too, but that it is a risk I am willing to take. No, it is a risk to Sookie. But there is no choice. I would risk everything for Sookie and I will. I only pray the wolf pup is right and Edgington needs time to heal and that if he does go after Sookie that he keeps her alive for long enough for me to get to her.

In the meantime, there is only one thing to do and it fills me with both anticipation and dread. The bond. Russell does not know of it and it will be the only thing we have going for us. Through the bond I can know if he has come for her and I will be able to track her if he has. It is the _only _way. For the first time in 24 hours I thank the gods that sappy vamp wanted to be One with the fairy. It may be the death of me to feel her again but I vow not to meet the final death until I make sure that _she _has survived and Russell is no more.

Fear and uncertainty flood me as I loosen my too-tight grip on the bond. I am like a child grasping and gasping and afraid. It feels like like sitting in my hotel room in Dallas scared to feel him gone. And as the bond opens, I feel her as alive and as emotional as ever. So Russell has not come for her. Yet. I stand for a moment to calm my own emotions as they grapple with addition of Sookie's until I feel as steady as I ever will.

I let myself 'reply' "**Thanks for letting me know.**" I hang up the phone.

The bond has me reeling already, but I welcome it now. Even worse than feeling her, of course, would be the unthinkable. If Sookie dies by Russell's fangs I will feel her leaving me again. And then I will have my own decision to make just as Godric did. Now, I understand his despair. But there is still hope.

* * *

**[A/N] I am still away in hot and humid Italia, so although I managed to see episode two (thanks to my amazing hubbie who came to visit), I'll wait til I catch up on season 5 to continue "Undone" further ... And I'm sorry if there are any errors here too. I can't rewatch episode 1 so I'm going on memory and the dialogue in 'Inner' plus I don't have much time so the revision is brief! **

**After seeing episode two it was pretty obvious that Eric was 'acting out' the only way he knew how in episode 1. All this to say that I figure there will be far fewer chapters for the upcoming episodes since Eric's got his head on straighter I think ... but we'll see. This chapter started out as a few hundred words and now look at it! **


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